


Peter Parker and the Art of Drawing a Water Drop

by Dontcryto0much



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Avengers, Protective Loki, The Raft Prison (Marvel), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22582630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontcryto0much/pseuds/Dontcryto0much
Summary: After two years, Peter’s water droplets easily looked photorealistic.It was pretty damn impressive if he did say-so himself.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Bruce Banner, Peter Parker & Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker & Clint Barton, Peter Parker & Loki, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Scott Lang, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Thor, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Wanda Maximoff
Comments: 81
Kudos: 396





	1. Peter's crib

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsreallylaterightnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsreallylaterightnow/gifts).



> This fun little idea came to my head, so lets run with it  
> Kinda short first chapter, I got really tired so Ill update tags and prob add more to this first chapter later lmao
> 
> (Once again gifted to Itsreallylaterightnow bc I love her even though I don't know her- I still love her XD! I promise to give you all thw whump in this fic)

After two years, Peter’s water droplets easily looked photorealistic.

It was pretty damn impressive if he did say-so himself.

As Peter hung his newest creation, he was forced to finally overlap a drawing for the first time. Translation- that meant he had filled up his three whole ass walls. Which also meant; Peter was probably the leading pro water droplet artist in the world; maybe in all of history. Adding up to the sum that Peter was most likely clinically insane at this point. Etc, etc, etc.

Maybe he could get a pretty little certificate and everything! Signed by the world renowned bat-shit specialist with a flashy gold embossed ribbon! But, it would have to be put on the end of his cot or something or else it would really mess up the aesthetic he had going-

Peter stepped back to admire the advancement in his work over the two years and couldn’t help but smirk.

His very first drawing was hung in the top right corner on the far left wall. It was quite pitiful. The ‘water drop’ was an ugly circle with a harsh drawn edge, roughly shaded with scratchy lines throughout the _entire_ circle ( _God, was he really that bad when he started?_ ), with a lousy erased-in highlight in the corner that still had pencil strokes fading through where Peter had pressed too hard and damaged the tooth of the paper. It looked nothing like water. But still, he had to start somewhere.

Peter had done that piece about five months after arriving here, so technically if he was honest, he had only been drawing for one and a half years. But hey, nobody was around to correct him! So, Peter figured why not add a new game to the list and lie to himself and say it was two years, then see how long it would take for him to convince himself that was the truth.

Fun, right?

The rest of his art faded gradually from “Oh my God, what the fuck is that?” to “Holy shit that’s _a drawing!?_ ”. Or at least, that's what Peter would assume people would say. Though, he wouldn’t really know anymore. A lot could have changed in two years he supposed. The only signs of life now days that Peter got were Gary and Mr. Grumpy. Both of which Peter was pretty certain were actually sewer rats disguised as humans. 

Speaking of the devil, Peter heard the sliding metal door click open, and entered two separate sets of feet hitting the ground. Peter didn’t bother turning as that little kindle of irritation ignited in his gut as usual when he heard a certain someone’s specific pace. He could hear that one was his lovely guard, due to the abnormally hefty thumps, and the other-

“Gary,” Peter crossed his arms, still facing his work as he refused to give the other man any form of attention until he jabbed at his displeasure of his presence first. He only got to sass the man every blue moon when he actually came all the way out here, so Peter relished it while he had the chance. “Promptly tell Ross he can- and excuse my French- go fuck himself because I am actually having a good day.” 

“Well, Mr. Parker, I see you are as cheery as always,” Ross grunted, sounding more wound up than usual. Oh was this going to be _fun!_ Peter narrowed his eyes and smirked a shit-eating grin. He couldn’t help his excitement as he turned to see the secretary's wary and tight face. Fascinating. Ross’s shoulders held more tension than before, and he looked really, _really_ tired. And God, did Peter saver every ounce of it as he bounced up to stand on his bed.

“Actually, I really am, so that was a waste of sarcastic energy,” Peter did a few calf raises for the hell of it. “Which, it looks like you should be saving. You seem super exhausted today, by the way. Just thought I should point that out. You’ve got more greys too- well, in what’s left of your hair anyway. Seriously, you’ve lost a lot. Stressful week?”

Ross’s expression did not change, it never did at first, but Peter was sure he heard the tone change ever so slightly more irritated. Great!

“I do not have time for you today,” Ross said, smoothing over his already steamed flat suit. “I only came here to make sure our new guests settle in nicely.”

Peter perked up at that. Immensely so. Some deep rooted hole in his chest that he had gotten used to squeezed, making its presence known again. Guests? As in new raft mates? Peter had never had even one of those. He had been alone this whole time. Which was fine, really; He was fine. 

Peter was absolutely, one hundred percent _fine_. 

“Guests?” Peter questioned, keeping his voice void of any excitement that might tempt Ross to take away his new prison life development. “Trapped a few more innocent kids up to throw them in the slaughterhouse?”

“You are not innocent,” Ross told him firmly, walking up to the glass. “You know exactly what you did.” 

A long time ago, Peter would have screamed at that. He can still remember that flaming hot spike of confused, angry desperation in his chest. The banging of fists on enhanced glass and raw throat screaming explicit rages toward the smug man. Or maybe he would have cried; overwhelmed at such a young age at the injustice of the unexplained life punishment. 

But now, numb to it all, Peter just scoffed a laugh.

“Actually, I think you’ll find that I _don’t_ know. Just like every other time you’ve visited me.” Peter crossed his arms. His denial, which was the honest to God truth because Peter really didn’t understand, always put Ross on the edge. He could see the man’s metaphorical feathers ruffle up. 

“Nobody likes a liar, Peter.” Ross hissed.

“And nobody likes a douchebag, _Theaddus_.” Peter shot back. The secretary set his jaw, eyes fiery. Peter fought back a smile of satisfaction. Instead of going off on him, Ross just reverted back to the original statement to divert the conversation.

“And this is not a slaughterhouse, don’t be dramatic. It isn’t becoming.” Ross chided. Peter nodded.

“You’re right, this place is way worse.”

“Oh, Mr. Parker,” Ross shook his head with a cold laugh, folding his hands neatly in front of him. His eyes grew darker than usual. “I could show you worse, believe me.” Peter scrunched up his nose, making a gross face.

“Ew, um, no thanks,” the boy declined. “I’m sure that specific… _treatment-_ only goes to your wife-"

“ _Mr. Parker!_ ” Gary, who had been standing off to the side, finally spoke up to put an end to the little feud as he stepped in front of the glass to give Peter a very displeased look. The teen shrugged, giving the guard his best innocent face, as he had to restrain from running to the other side of the room to get one last look at Ross’s priceless appalled look.

Before any of them said or did anything else, more footsteps entered the room. Peter would have noticed them earlier normally had he not been distracted. The boy hopped down off his cot as a hell of a lot of guards lead in a group of four very regular looking people in the same blue jumpsuits he had on. There were three guys, two white males and one dark skinned. All much older than Peter was. There was one girl, younger than the rest but still not as young as he was, and she was the only one in a straight jacket and a, God, a shock collar- 

Yeah, they looked normal, but Peter was smart enough to know that looks were deceiving.

This was gonna be really interesting.


	2. The Avengers are Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Avengers are dead.” 
> 
> Peter’s heart gave out. 
> 
> “Wha-” Peter curled his hands into the bars, knuckles going white. “But who could kill the Avengers?”
> 
> Peter watched Clint’s eyes darken, face morphing into something like regret.
> 
> “Tony could,” Clint whispered, voice coated with venom. “Ironman could.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow wow WOW was I blown away at the comments in the last chapter! Thank you guys! I was very motivated to get this new chapter out to you all after your excitement so know that it does make a difference! Enjoy!

Peter eyed the newbies with interest. He inched closer to the glass until his hands rested on the cool metal bars so he could get a good look. Excitement bubbled in his stomach. It was a feeling Peter hadn’t felt in a long time. Sure, they were probably enhanced murders, but at this point, Peter didn’t care. That seemed to be a common mood nowadays. 

Apparently, when you are alone for so long, even a terrorist would seem like good company. 

There was a dark skinned man, (Peter noted he kind of looked like a handsome cockroach-) he was the first to take any notice of Peter, as the rest of them, other than the girl, were too busy mouthing off to the guards. As the teen and the older man made eye contact, Peter didn’t square his shoulders. Or shrink back. Or make any move in general other than a lazy flick of a hand for a wave and a tight smile. The man’s face flashed through a series of emotions: surprise, contemplation, pity, anger. 

“You have a  _ child  _ in here?” The man hissed, turning to spit towards Ross. Huh, Peter liked that. Extra fuel to stoke the fire.

At the comment, the whole group paused and turned to look in his direction, like an animal in the zoo on display. Peter, in the back of his mind, didn’t know why he really didn’t give a fuck that he was being observed. If he remembered correctly (which wasn’t very regular), he  _ used  _ to be on the quieter side and shied away from any attention. But now, he just gazed back and nodded his head. The girl was the only one who really caught his eye. Her head was cocked to the side, only slightly though as the collar pushed against her jaw where it jammed against her collar bone. Peter winced inwardly; he did not miss that thing. He noted the lady was staring at him in a different way than the rest- not shocked, but almost understanding. And sad. So sad. But she didn’t speak. The shorter, very ‘dad’ looking white dude, took her place as he made a face; pointing at the teen in the cage.

“Please tell me that’s one of your kids who came to shadow one of you for work day,” The man almost pleaded.

“I doubt it,” The last dude grumbled.“Not like they have any morals.” He looked oddly familiar. Something in Peter’s gut flipped, like he was staring at a long lost friend. No, he would definitely remember a friend….. Maybe. God, he really must have seen him before though! Alas, two years had stretched into a thousand for him, and there was a lot he probably should remember that he didn’t. So Peter couldn’t put a name to the face exactly, but he swore he knew that guy.. 

  
  


“You can get acquainted with Mr. Parker once you are settled in,” Ross interjected. “I am sure he will be thrilled to talk.” The guards took that as their cue to usher the new prisoners into their cells, spewing the ‘this place is inescapable so don't even try anything’ shindig that Peter had heard several times in the beginning. He was pretty sure these people would still try to get out a few times.

He had.

Peter had tried so  _ hard- _

Once all of them were locked up, the crowd exited the room, leaving Peter and co to their own devices. All of them kind of just did a one-eighty spin to gather in the boring ass room. As they did so, Peter thought it only proper to introduce himself as they took in the cells. Maybe he could do a british accent? They would never know he wasn’t from England…. Nah, that was stupid. Peter shook his head, spreading his arms wide, not opposed to a little drama as he announced to the pack:

“Welcome to the shittiest apartment ever,” Peter exclaimed, catching all their attention instantly. “They aren't lying when they say ‘when stuff is too good to be true than it probably is’. Because when you find a place with free rent, you have to expect a few unpleasant amminitys.” Peter grinned. When they all just stared Peter chuckled awkwardly, flopping back to sit on his bed. 

“Sorry, not my best analogy. I’ll work on it.”

“How  _ old  _ are you, kid?” Mr. Handsome cockroach spoke up, pressing his palms against the glass. 

“Sixteen,” Peter told them proudly, ignoring the ache pressing up his throat at the thought. Like an annoying, unyielding earworm. He should have his license by now- 

_ ‘Shut up’  _ Peter hissed to his own mind.

“Holy shit,” Dad-guy whispered, shaking his head. “Sixteen? Why the hell are you in here?”

“More importantly,” The woman, who has some sort of weird ancient, interrupted. Her eyes met Peter’s again, slicing through him from where she sat, curled up in the corner. “ _ How long _ have you been here?”

“Uh,” Peter paused, trying to remember as he kicked his feet as they hung off the edge of the bed. He looked over to his special little spot on the floor and found his last writing, reading it out loud. “Two years, three months, and four days.My name is Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

_ Silence _

The group went still for a solid five seconds, not a breath was breathed or an eye blinked before-

“Fuck Ross,” Familiar guy seethed, clenching his fists. 

“You could say that again,” Peter snorted, apparently surprising them as they all gave him questioning looks. Had they expected him to pity himself? Because Peter had done that a long time ago. Now he just didn’t care. He couldn’t. 

Caring was so much harder to deal with; it made the nights so much longer.

“Why?” The girl asked, shifting slightly to face him more. Peter shrugged, shaking his head.

“Beats me,” he answered honestly. “Maybe we can figure that out later because I have been seriously clueless. But first, what are your names? Because I gotta know before we go on any further.” Peter asked, not wanting to keep using nicknames lest they stick in his brain forever.

They all blinked again, as if Peter should already know their names- were they super famous world criminals or something?  _ Fuck.  _ Was his memory really  _ that bad- _

“Well shit, guess he wasn’t around to hear about us, huh?” Dad dude asked.

“They never do remember me,” familiar guy whispered simultaneously.

“I’m Sam.” The dark skin man introduced himself over the others. The girl followed suit.

“I’m Wanda.”

“Scott!” The dad looking dude raised his hand.

“Clint.” 

Wait, waitwaitwait...

“Oh uh,” Peter froze, brain working overdrive. “Hold on-”

Clint.  _ Clint? _ That was- wait no. No that wasn’t right. That-

“Oh my  _ God, _ ” Peter stood, pointing at Mr. Clint Barton himself, standing flesh and bone across the room from him. An Avenger. A hero Peter grew up dreaming about. One of his biggest role models. Right there. Right  _ there! _ “You’re Hawkeye! Holy  _ shit! _ The Hawkeye, Clint Barton!”

“Ah ha!” Clint broke into a haughty smile. “I am popular among teens!”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” Wanda mumbled.

Peter ignored her. Because literally what the hell? Why was Hawkeye in prison? 

“Dude! Why are  _ you here!? _ Did aliens take over? Is Ross the secret leader?” Peter leaned forward, curiosity killing him. “Did you get in on the wrong crowd? What am I saying, of course you didn’t- Did you get blamed for something you didn’t do? Are you on a mission?”

The uncomfortable silence that followed stilled Peter instantly. The four of them gave each other significant looks; knowing looks. A silent conversation was held right in front of Peter’s face so clear he wondered if they were all telepathic or something. He thought he might get in trouble, but when Clint turned back to him, he just gave a tight smile.

It wasn’t a happy smile. It was tight and hurt, hiding wounds that were not physical. Peter knew it only because he saw it every single day.

“Let’s just say the world forgot really fast that we saved it’s ass several times.” Hawkey sighed, kicking off his shoes and settling in on his bed. Peter chewed the inside of his cheek nervously, a little more hesitant to ask but still bursting at the seams.

“But,” Peter popped his knuckles. “What about the rest of the team? The Avengers, they could get you out, right?” Peter asked with a much more subdued tone. His heart lurched every so slightly at the idea that maybe the team couldn’t get them out. Maybe something terrible had happened-

As if on cue, Sam’s shoulders dropped at the question, Scott turned his head. Wanda stared blankly at the floor, and Clint- 

Clint sagged back against the wall, sitting cross legged. His eyes shined with a mixture of anger and grief, jaw clenching and unclenching. 

“The Avengers are dead.” 

Peter’s heart gave out. 

_ Ironman. _

__ Ironman was… dead? That couldn’t- no. No he was Peter’s favorite! His idol! He was Peter’s hero, he couldn’t be dead! Peter still had to meet him! He had to find a way to get him to come to the raft and see him, just so Peter could tell him that he was everything to him!

_ “Nice job, kid.” _

Peter had to thank him for saving his life all those years ago-

“Wha-” Peter curled his hands into the bars, knuckles going white. “But who could kill the Avengers?”

Peter watched Clint’s eyes darken, face morphing into something like regret.

“Tony could,” Clint whispered, voice coated with venom. “Ironman could.”

Oh.

_ What the fuck? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Peter had dropped the subject after that, even though his mind was racing and he wanted to know more. He wanted to understand. Peter needed to know what happened. How had Tony Stark ‘killed’ the Avengers? Surly Thor could have, like, pinned him? Even with the Ironman armor? And Captain America too! They could have stopped him if he had been possessed or something! They were strong, they were a team! Plus, weren’t Captain America and Iroman best friends? Peter had always heard that. Neither of them would have wanted to kill the other. 

Yeah, he must have been possessed. 

Even if that was the case, how did these four survive? And why were they here now? Peter guessed if the rest of the Avengers were dead, other evil people could have brought them here. Maybe this was a new world war or something. God, Peter hoped not. Because May was still out there-

Just the thought of her name brought a hot dagger to Peter’s chest. He hadn’t seen his aunt in two years, and he probably never would again. Part of him didn’t want to, because if he did, Peter would have to tell her. If she didn’t already know, if she didn’t already hate him; He would have to explain why his uncle was dead. And that was something Peter was not strong enough to do.

“So, Peter.” Sam, bless him, bumped into Peter’s thoughts right before they began to spiral. “You got a story behind  _ those _ ?” The man gestured toward his walls of art with an amused smile. Peter grinned slightly, pushing back the lump that had been forming in his throat.

“Those are my water drops.” Peter told him, patting one of the pieces. Sam snorted.

“I can see that, but why?”

“Well,” Peter leaned his chin onto his palm where he lay belly down on his cot, facing the center of the room. “When I got here, I got really bored really quick, and obviously there isn’t a lot to do so I asked for a sketch pad and batta-bing batta-boom here we are! I draw one every day.” Sam nodded thoughtfully, taking in Peter’s hoard of work.

“May I ask, why water?” Sam questioned innocently, seeming genuinely interested. Peter’s heart warmed at the thought of someone actually caring..

“I guess there really wasn’t much else in the room to draw. I mean, there is- Like the bed or the sink or the mirror, but they don’t  _ change,  _ you know? But with water, I can splatter it anywhere and it’s always just a  _ little  _ different, so it gives variety. Plus, it seemed like a challenge, and I had nothing better to do so....” Peter shrugged, surprisingly eased by finally being able to talk about it and explain. Especially with Sam not judging him. Or at least not judging him  _ outwardly.  _ Like Peter was normal. Like he wasn’t going crazy or stupid. It was really nice.

It was nice to be treated like a human. 

“Hm,” Sam considered for a moment that explanation, before making up his mind with a gentle smile. “They are really good. Very impressive.” 

Peter’s chest swelled.

“Thanks!” Peter couldn’t stop the cheeky grin. Sam laughed quietly, but there was sadness in it. 

“You’re welcome.” Sam said, taking a seat on the cot. His face drew more serious, and he leaned forward like he was ready to dig deep into a conversation. Peter wouldn’t mind, he was happy to talk. 

“Peter, why did Ross put you in here?”

That again. Peter took his hand off the wall, forgetting the artwork and he propped himself up onto his elbows. 

“I-” Peter hesitated. Maybe it was because he was afraid to be scolded again like Ross always did. Or maybe, it was just the fact that Peter honestly didn’t  _ know.  _ “I have no idea. Ross won’t tell me anything. He always claims that I know what I did but… the only thing I could think of that could  _ possibly  _ be it wasn’t even legally my fault.”

_ The blood on his hands, screaming for help, watching Ben’s eyes lose their light-  _

_ “Nobody likes a liar, Peter.”  _ Ross had said. And Peter was a liar. It  _ was _ his fault. But Sam couldn’t know that. He didn’t need to.

“And even if it was my fault, it wouldn’t be a sentence to this  _ hell hole _ .”

Sam frowned, eyes scanning the teen as if trying to read his mind. “Ross won’t tell you why he gave you a life sentence in a floating prison in the middle of the ocean made for enhanced individuals?” 

“Nope,” Peter popped the ‘P’ in attempts to lighten the mood. He didn’t need to care. Caring was such a fucking disadvantage here. It screwed you over even more than hopelessness did. “He just caught me and drug me here one night. I couldn’t stop him, he had.. Prepared for my abilities. There was nothing I could do.”

“Abilities?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I got bit by this radioactive spider thing when I was younger, and now I can climb walls and shit.” Peter gave him a sheepish grin. Sam cocked his head, opening his mouth and closing it twice before responding.

“A  _ radioactive  _ spider?”

“Mhm.”

“Gotta say, that’s a new one.” Scott chimed in from where he was washing his face in the sink. Sam laughed, nodding his head in agreement.

“That’s even weirder than mine.” Wanda’s lips pulled up at the corners. 

“It is a little weird,” Peter admitted. “But it’s a cool story!”

“Better than any of ours.” Clint said. They all stated various agreements and such and continued onto pointless banter. 

For the first time since he got here, Peter thought that he might be okay. He wasn’t going to get out, no. But at least he wasn’t alone. There was nothing worse than being alone.

And so when the lights shut off for the night signal, Peter was able to crawl into bed and _ finally  _ got to say goodnight to the air and receive actual responses. He got to listen to five pairs of breathing lungs and five heartbeats thrumming softly.

That night, when Peter closed his eyes, he got to imagine he was in his classroom during a test. Imagined he was at a sleepover with the decathlon team. Imagined he was with his aunt and uncle and his parents. And with the beating hearts and gentle breaths, it was so much easier to imagine it was real.

For the first time since Peter arrived, he didn’t want the night to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE always let me know if you think a chapter is rushed so I can slow things down in the next chapter! I HATE a rushed fic, but it's kinda hard to spot it in your own work sometimes. 
> 
> SO many questions still to be answered! I am leaving many secrets out to be revealed! But I did answer the question you guys were asking- Tony does not know Peter yet. Well, not exactly. You'll see. 
> 
> Also, I would say Clint is just slightly bitter. I wasn't gonna make him that way and then I remembered how pissed he was in CW so I decided to make him S A L T Y! Plus, it will be fun to just pile up the confusion in Peter's poor brain. He very clearly did not understand, and that's okay. He will later. It will all come together eventually!


	3. I'm fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quietly, Peter crawled back into bed, ignoring every attempt his body made to reopen the wounds. To let out the raging storm inside. He didn’t need to. It was pointless. It would make everything all the more terrible. So with a stubborn exhale, Peter closed his eyes and began the chant in his head- filling his mind with the lies:
> 
> I’m fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayoooo, new chapter!!! And, gASP, is that a new POV I see??? AHHHHHHH, MAYBEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
> 
> Enjoy!

_ “Hey baby.” _

_ Peter stopped, biting his lip, his shoulders sagging downward at that voice. He knew what was coming. Peter knew that the yelling would start and all would be blamed on him. Yes, maybe he deserved it, but Peter had hoped to escape it tonight.  _

_ “Hey, May.” Peter whispered, turning to see her. His heart caught in his chest, like it always did. She stood beneath a beam of warm light, watching him calmly. God, she was so beautiful. Her eyes were so kind. They called to him. Her fingers twitched by her sides in the way they did when she was about to hug him. Her smile was soft. Peter always let himself relish the first few moments before they went to hell. _

_ “Oh Peter,” May breathed, her mouth twisting into a sad smile. “My baby.” Stepping up to him, her hand outstretched the moment she was in reach so she could cup his face. Peter leaned into the touch, soul aching. Sometimes, Peter forgot how much he missed her. The warmth of her fingers brought him back to a happier time. It made him remember what used to have been, and what could be in different circumstances. Freedom, love, and happiness.  _

_ Peter never had thought about the liberties of everyday tasks when he was in Queens, they were things that Peter missed so much. You would think it would be the things like taking the bus, walking to Delmar's to get a sandwich, or taking a jog in the park. But no, Peter misses the small things. Like being able to get his own glass of water, being able to turn off the light himself, or choosing when to use the restroom.  _

_ It was the small things that reminded him more than anything that He never truly made a choice for himself when he was here. _

_ “Peter, sweetheart,” May’s eyes began to shine, her lips pulling tight in an attempt to stop the trembling. “I need you to come home.” _

_ Peter froze. _

_ That was new. Usually May started screaming, blaming him for every screw up in his life. But no, this May was acting like the real May would. And somehow, that hurt more. _

_ “I- I want to,” Peter’s voice cracked, heart threatening to explode.”But I can’t, May. I can’t” His chest seized, constricting painfully. A well hidden volcano of hurt and confusion and grief began to rumble inside him. Peter growled, shoving it down. This is why he didn’t talk about this; why he didn’t addmit he wanted the fuck out. _

_Because when Peter admitted it; it brought out every one of the one hundred and one reasons that he_ couldn’t. _The realization that what he wanted the most he would never possess._ _And that was so much fucking worse._

_ “Why?! Peter, please!” May begged, thrusting out both arms to grip his shoulders. Her knees buckled just slightly so that her weight tilted forward and she almost bowed before him. Every fiber of her being rang out sad desperation. “Please come home! Come back to me!” Peter made a choking noise in the back of his throat, moving forward to catch her by the waist before she could face plant into his chest.  _

_ “May!” Peter yelped, panic laced through his voice. He lowered both of them to their knees, hating how it felt far too much like a servant begging a master, so he leveled with her as much as possible. _

_ “Please, please, please,” May was sobbing now, rolling her hands up into the fabric of Peter’s shirt. Her mascara made milky black lines down her face. “Peter, just get out! Get out! Why won't you fight for me?!” _

_ “I tried, I really did, I’m sorry! May-” Peter cried, holding her as she collapsed forward to wrap her arms around his waist. _

_ “Come home, Peter! Why won't you come back to me? You don’t understand, they found me!” May was almost yelling now, but it was adrenaline fueled terror; not anger this time. _

_ And god, Peter hated it worse than her fury. _

_ ‘“Who?! Who found you!?” _

_ “Come. Home! I need you!” _

_ “I’m sorry, I’m so sor-” _

_ “NO!” May’s piercing scream of horror cut him off, as she began to slip from his grasp, dragged by some unseen force. _

_ And Peter panicked.  _

_ “May!? MAY!” Peter scrambled after her when her nimble fingers ripped his shirt with the force she was taken away. His heart jumped into his throat, making it hard to breathe as he stumbled off the floor and began to run after her. It was like a horror movie; watching May get pulled across the floor by a supernatural power and closer to the darkness, faster than Peter could run.  _

_ “PETER!” May thrashed, hair flying wildly. Peter reached for her, even though she was far ahead. He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breath hecouldn’tbreathe- _

_ “NO!”  _

_ That was the last thing he said before her body disappeared into the black shadows. Peter didn’t think, he just drove after her, flying blindly right into the darkness with her- _

Peter woke up when his body hit the floor. With a strangled gasp, Peter yelped and scrambled backwards until his back slammed into paper covered walls. He blinked, grabbing his chest, grounding himself back to the present he was just so rapidly thrown into. His hand shook, mimicking the racing of his heart. There was a shuffling noise in the room beside his, followed by a whisper.

“Kid?” Sam's groggy voice split through the silence of the room, calling Peter’s attention toward it. He couldn’t see anything, but Peter turned to face the man anyway. 

“Mr. Sam?” Peter asked with a rasp. 

“You alright over there?” Sam spoke with a tired slur, and Peter knew he wasn’t really very awake. And though his heart twisted with two years of repressed emotion and his tongue itches to talk; Peter just took a breath.  _ Love is a disadvantage here.  _ He imagined a cage in his gut, and forced it to lock shut before stuffing it away. The pressure in his lungs subsided back to its normal force and Peter plastered a smile on his lips in the darkness.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

Maybe if Sam had been more alert he wouldn’t have believed him, but the soft snores that followed proved his lie effective. 

Quietly, Peter crawled back into bed, ignoring every attempt his body made to reopen the wounds. To let out the raging storm inside. He didn’t need to. It was pointless. It would make everything all the more terrible. So with a stubborn exhale, Peter closed his eyes and began the chant in his head- filling his mind with the lies:

_I’m_ _fine._

  
  


_________________

  
  
  


Tony blew the glass wall to shards.

With a quick  _ puff,  _ the cushion of the couch caved where Tony sat down roughly, putting his face in his hands as the gauntlet retracted back to watch form. This was quite possibly the biggest, most royal fuck up in his life. That was saying a lot considering Tony’s impressively long collection he had going. And even with all that practice, he didn’t even know where to begin to fix this. Not a clue.

Maybe he should have just talked through it more, maybe that would have worked. Maybe he should have come in his jeans and a damn t-shirt to look non threatening. Or go back to the beginning- Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to the accords. Maybe Tony shouldn't have kept Wanda at the compound- maybe. Tony had only been trying to protect her. To protect all of them. Maybe that was a mistake- maybe it was impossible.

_ “What are we, a team? No, no, no. We’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We- we’re a time bomb.” _

Maybe Bruce had been more right than he knew all those years ago.

Maybe maybe maybe-

God it was all too confusing and Tony was  _ tired.  _ With a loud groan, he rubbed calloused fingers over his eyes, just taking a second to collect himself.

“FRI?” Tony kept his head buried.

“Yes, Boss?” If possible, the AI sounded concerned and unusually gentle. Tony’s heart fluttered just slightly.

“I am in  _ dire _ need of a step by step directional pamflet here, honey.” Tony almost pleaded- nearly. The few seconds of his dear AI’s silence sounded almost apologetic.

“I am unfortunately lacking that specific guide sir,” Friday told him softly. “But if I may offer you advice, I would recommend to go see Sam Wilson as he is a close comrade to Steve Rogers and may know of his location.”

_ ‘Close comrade’ _ Something about that struck a knife right in his ribs.

Had Tony ever been close to Steve? Now that he thought about it, there were still so many unanswered questions about Cap that Tony wasn’t so sure if he knew the soldier as much as he thought he had. Maybe as a battle partner he did; Tony almost knew Steve’s every move in a fight. And the other way around. It’s what made so many of their fights successful (and the fact that they were kick ass superheros, but that wasn’t the point). But outside of the mission, Tony supposed had never really learned much about his ‘friend’.

Maybe all this time Tony had fooled himself into thinking he was close to his team.

It shouldn’t bother him. Tony didn’t need them to be okay, he was just fine by himself. Most days he preferred it that way. This whole thing should not even be a problem really. Tony signed the Accords, they didn’t. The end. He shouldn’t concern himself with what happened to them because  _ Tony did his part.  _

But the little voice in his head told him that this was not a team he was saving- it was family.

_ Fuck,  _ that was so much more  _ complicated _ .

“Wilson won’t tell me a damn thing,” Tony grumbled, shoving down previous thoughts before they led him down a stupid, sentamental and  _ emotional  _ rabbit hole. 

“It seems to be the best option available at the moment.” Friday pressed. “Might I suggest going in with a little humility?” Tony raised an eyebrow as he couldn’t stop the snort.

“Friday, dear, I thought you knew me better than that?” Tony deadpanned, uncurling his back and looking up at the ceiling. 

“Reading from Sam Wilson’s past behavior, you will make no progress if you act like yourself, Boss. He does not respond well to prideful or arrogant behavior.” Tony sincerely balked at that one, throwing a dramatic hand over his chest.

“Friday, I’m hurt! Truly wounded!” 

“Apologies, that was not a personal attack,” The AI said, very  _ very  _ unapologetically. The lights flickered slightly and Tony imagined she was smoldering a laugh. “But it would be unwise to approach this in the same manner as you did at the airport.”

“Wasn’t exactly planning on _that_ much pazazz, but I’m sure as hell not about to go beg on my knees, either.”

“I agree. That would be awkward, sir.”

“Mm,” Tony nodded, sighing. “So what? Go sit down and have a heart to heart with Wilson, find Rogers, have another heart to heart, and then everything will go back to normal?”

“I am not sure it will happen quite that fast.”

“Let a man dream, yeesh. It’s been a stressful day.” Tony stood, stretching out his back. The lab around him was tempting- calling him to his work bench to just go sit and tinker and blair AC/DC and forget this mess. But a part of him, way deep down, would not rest until this came to a close. One way or another, Tony had to finish this shit. Preferably with his mess of a team in one crookedly bandaged back together piece.

He was Tony Stark for god’s sake, he was a mechanic. He fixed things. Tony could fix this. Not just because that's what he did, but because he had to. The world needed the Avengers, and Tony… Tony maybe- just maybe, needed them too. 

“Alright honey, call up dear old Ross and get me the first class ticket to my Dr. Phil session.”

“On it, Boss.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off- Poor Peter. He really needs to just let himself get it all out or He might explode :( 
> 
> Second- Tony! Tony Tony Tony! Yay yay yay! *pumps fist* He has been introduced! Whoop whoop! And he is about to go talk to Sam so we knOw who He's gonNA MEET!!! EEEEK!!!!


	4. He'll be back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter sputtered on the water he was sipping as the man walked in. He practically dropped what was in his hands, staring, mouth hanging open as he watched the Tony Stark walk in.
> 
> Tony Stark; Ironman. Someone he thought was dead. But He was, in fact, very much alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AIHHUGYUGYUGYG HERE WE GO BITCHESSSSS

When Peter woke the next morning, the numbness was back. He wasn’t sad or angry, no. He was just fucking tired. Peter had been in that miserable cell for two years now, and he knew somewhere inside of him that he was sick of it. His mind distantly throbbed for his Aunt May, for Ned, for his small apartment. He longed to swing through the city, to make a difference in the world. But it wasn’t going to happen. Peter accepted that. 

Peter had been quite that morning, ignoring the pointed glaces from the newbies. He didn’t feel like talking about anything, so he was sitting on the floor sketching his newest water droplet of the day. This one was of a splattered drop, with the reflection of his old Spider-man mask. He took a sip of his drink left over from breakfast when he heard the door slide open. Peter glanced up briefly, not very interested, just caught by the noise. That was, until he saw the face of the person.

Peter sputtered on the water he was sipping as the man walked in. He practically dropped what was in his hands, staring, mouth hanging open as he watched  _ the  _ Tony Stark walk in.

Tony Stark; Ironman. Someone he thought was  _ dead. _ But He was, in fact, very much alive.

He looked more worn down than what he had seen of him on the news. He wore a black jacket, his left arm was in a sling. A purple bruise was covering his right eye socket. His eyes were guarded and wary as he moved into the room, his lips pressed in a line. Peter couldn’t quite get himself to move, this was a man he had looked up to since childhood. A man he had just thought had been killed. 

And He was going to see Peter for the first time, and probably last, as a prisoner.

Tony stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if procrastinating talking to his fellow teammates, or maybe ex teammates… Peter was now extra confused on that whole situation. He watched Tony just stare, that is, until Clint caught his attention.

“The futurist gentlemen!” Clint mocked, clapping obnoxiously. It wasn’t in the tone Peter had heard him talk in. There was a bitter, accusatory tone laced in every word. Tony immediately set his jaw, his face becoming, if possible, even more guarded. “The futurist is here!” Tony turned to look at Clint, Peter could feel the tension in the air.

“He sees all! He knows what’s best for you.” Clint says sarcastically, simply looking at the wall. Like turning his head to look at Tony was a waste of energy. “Whether you like it or not.” He muttered that last part.

Begrudgingly, Tony walked toward Clint’s cell, speaking smoothly like he always did. “Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they’d put you here, come on.” Clint spits on the ground before turning to stare daggers at Tony. Peter winced inwardly, nervous Tony might call his suit or something.

“Yeah well, you knew they’d put us somewhere Tony.” Clint snapped, saying his name like it was acid in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Tony said, looking around the room. “but not some super-max ocean floating pokey.” He said, turning back to Clint. Peter caught what he thought was a hint of apology in his voice. “This place is for maniacs,” Ouch, Peter thought, sinking back a little. “This is a place for-“

“Criminals,” Clint interjected, standing up to face Tony eye to eye. “Criminals, Tony. I think that’s the word you’re lookin for.” He said, pressing his forearms against the glass and leaning forward. “Right?” He said lowly. Tony stared at him, grinding his teeth. “It didn’t use to mean me. Or Sam or Wanda.” Clint hissed, glancing over at the other cells before returning his attention to Tony. “But here we are.”

“Because you broke the Law.” Tony responded, not breaking eye contact. Peter cocked his head; they hadn’t mentioned that part. Or much else for that matter. It was becoming rapidly clear he did not know anything.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t make you.” Tony said as Clint turned his back, growling a taunting ‘la la la la la’ as he spoke. “You read it, you broke it. Alright.” He said as Clint sat with his back against the glass. “You’re all grown up with a wife and kids. I don’t understand, why didn’t you think about them before you chose the wrong side?”  _ Wrong side?  _ Peter grimaced hard, biting his lip anxiously. He felt like he was easy dropping. Tony didn’t even know he was here.

Tony turned and walked as Clint stood back up, his eyes layered with rage and he stormed up to the glass. “You better watch your back with this guy,” Clint spat, banging his fists against the glass front, making Peter flinch. “There’s a chance he’s gonna break it!” He growled.

Tony blinked, Peter could see the slight hurt in his eyes as he walked past Scott’s cell. Peter couldn’t help but feel slightly wary with the billionaire. That wasn’t something he ever expected to feel when meeting his childhood hero for the first time- but Peter could feel something wasn’t right. Something had happened. Something bad. Peter didn’t know whose fault it was. 

“Hank Pym always said you never can trust a Stark,” Scott taunted as Tony walked by, earning a disinterested, “Who are you?” From Tony.

Peter continued to watch silently as Tony walked to Sam, standing to face him. “How’s Rhodes?” Sam asked genuinely, his back still facing Tony.  _ Rhodes?  _ As in James Rhodes, War Machine? Peter assumed so, he and Tony were best friends, right? Or maybe that had changed too. 

“They’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow so-“ Tony sighed slightly, Peter couldn’t help but be curious as to what happened. “Fingers crossed.” He said quietly as Sam turned to look at him. “What do you need? They feed you yet?” Tony asked, recovering quickly from his somber thoughts.

“Oh what, so you’re the good cop now?” Sam hissed, raising an eyebrow. Tony shook his head slightly.

“I’m just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.”

“Well, you better go get a bad cop-“ Sam said, stepping towards the viewing panel. “‘cause you gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information outta me.” Sam growled.

Peter narrowed his eyes as Tony fiddled with something on his wrist, though she couldn’t catch what it was because of him facing away from her. But Sam was looking at it intensely.

“Well, I just knocked the A out of their AV so we’ve got about thirty seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment.” Sam blinked, obviously confused, as was Peter. “Just look,” Tony said, fiddling with his wrist again, Peter assumed it was a watch. “Because that is the man who was supposed to interrogate Barnes.”

Peter felt like his brain might explode; he was so lost at that point. Barnes? Who the hell was Barnes? But Sam clearly understood, so he just figured he would ask him later.

“Clearly I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

“That’s a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation with this-“ Tony said quietly, Peter frowned. Captain America? “He’s about to need all the help he can get. We don’t know each other very well, you don’t have t-”

“It’s… alright.” Something in Sam’s face softened. A shift in gears. Peter continued to eavesdrop as Sam sombered his voice. “Look, I’ll tell you. But you have to go  _ alone  _ and as a friend.” The men stared at each other, something happening that Peter couldn’t quite catch until Tony finally, and firmly, spoke up.

“Easy.”

Peter had majorly lost track after that, all he knew is Sam mentioned Captain America and this Barnes dude and that they were in Siberia. At a bunker? A place where they kept other ‘Winter Soldiers’, whatever the fuck that meant. Maybe Peter had heard wrong, it all sounded like gibberish. After a quick nod, Tony finally turned to exit, clearly eager to go, but that's when their eyes met.

Tony’s pace slowed, squinting slightly in confusion before his face fell somewhat flat. Peter just blinked dumbly at him, unable to move, watching as Mr. Stark’s face flashed with weird emotions. Neither of them said a word. But as Tony slowly regained pace, his gaze remained on Peter until he stepped into the elevator. Peter’s feet carried him to the glass without thought, his body drawn like a magnet toward the closest corner to the man. Tony stared, mind working behind that intense stare. He didn’t know why, it’s not like he was expecting to be saved by the incredible Ironman or anything- but Peter felt his heart speed up, and his hands found the glass. 

It was a small gesture, but it screamed for help, every fiber of Peter begging for someone to take him away; and Tony’s brows creased. 

The door began to slide shut, causing Peter to lean to the left slightly to see Tony just a little longer. To his surprise, the hero had done the same. At the last moment as the door almost sealed shut, Tony nodded toward him, then he was gone.

Peter stepped back, the smallest, and most genuine of smiles he had felt in a long time pulled at his lips. Because somehow, Peter knew Tony would be back soon. Not to see the team- but to see him. 

Tony  _ was going to come back. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD THEY'VE MET!!! 
> 
> They haven't spoken, but somehow, I just felt like they wouldn't that first time, yk? Tony had to get to Cap and Bucky, and you know what??? Im fucking glab bc I think, for whatever strange reason, it gave their first meeting so much more emotion. Idk, maybe its just me.


End file.
